


There isn't enough wing fics in this damn fandom

by PurpleK1W1



Series: Good Omens Dialogue Prompts and Requests [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Could be read as platonic if you squint really hard, Drabble, M/M, Poor Hygiene, Wings, blood tw, could also be read as implied nsfw if you squint, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 13:16:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleK1W1/pseuds/PurpleK1W1
Summary: Aziriphale has put off preening his wings for too long.





	There isn't enough wing fics in this damn fandom

**Author's Note:**

> kinda short my b

Aziraphale was up and about, doing his daily chores taking care of the book shop. It was after closing time and he had decided it would be a good idea to will his wings into existence. Let them stretch out and all. He heard somewhere that it wasn't healthy to keep them folded up all day. He was in the middle of dusting a shelf of books that hadn't been attended to in a longer time than he'd like to admit when the door slammed open unexpectedly. Without warning, a heavy ancient old thing of a novel teetered and fell from the very top row of the shelf. Aziraphale hardly had time to think before he outstretched his left wing to catch it and yelped as the hard, heavy cover smacked into his fragile wing, breaking its fall before it slid off onto the floor with a heavy _t__hud_. He hissed in a breath of air, flapping his wing like one would flap a hand that wasn't too badly injured but absolutely felt like it was after the pinkie was slammed into a car door.

“Oop- sorry 'bout that, angel! Hadn't meant to slam your door open like that,” a familiar voice broke in, shutting the offending door and locking it after itself. “Aziraphale?” the voice called. 

“In here, dear!” Aziraphale called back from his position in the shop, followed by a dramatic groan.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow before following and finding the voice he was looking for. “You alrigh'?” he asked, bemusedly, asymmetrical eyebrows sitting atop his forehead. “Oh,” Aziraphale hardly acknowledged, still hopping about silly, holding his wing in both hands, “Yes, yes! I'm quite fine!” he whined in a newly annoyed tone.

“Well you don't look fine, you know,” Crowley pointed out. “What'd you do this time?” 

“Erm, only nicked it,” Aziraphale admitted, a little embarrassed, still flapping the stinging sensation from his sensitive appendage. He grabbed the wing with both hands. “My wing, I mean. I haven't had them out in forever and-- oh, dear.” He cut himself off with raised eyebrows and a grimace as he pulled his hands away to reveal his pristine feathers stained crimson, and his hands slick with the same dark liquid. 

“That's a blood feather, that is.” Crowley pointed out unhelpfully, hands pocketed, unsure where to go. 

“Yes, thank you, Crowley. Why are you looking at me like that?” he questions, eyes narrowed, noting the suspicious look the demon bore across his face. “Oh, nothing…” he muttered with a dismissive wave, still staring. “It's just… When was the last time you, er... Preened your wings?” he asked, advancing close enough to touch his right-wing, which he did, only for a moment, inspecting a crooked primary.

“The last I-? Oh!” Aziraphale realized what he meant and flushed a shade of sheepish rose. “I erm, I don't suppose I remember,” he reflexively went to straighten his cream-white coat, before the demon caught his hands and tsked, “Your hands, love.” he offered helpfully, ignoring the thanks the angel muttered before shuffling to the sink to wash the red from his hands. 

“Tell ya what,” Crowley offered, “I'll take care of that blood feather for you, and maybe I'll preen your wings. Just because I can't stand looking at them like that. I swear it makes me squirm,” he complains, ignoring the way that Aziraphale positively beams at him, with a little shake of his wings. “If you would be ever so kind-” “Yes, yes! Already said I'll do it.” “It's just that I never have the time and when I do I can hardly reach the poor things-” “Alright! You're welcome! But let's do something about that blood feather, yeah?” Crowley said, miracling a water mister and a large-ish pair of tweezers into his hands. “Couldn't you miracle it away?” Aziraphale commented innocently, a hint of impatience in his voice, knowing the answer, but also knowing that he should be grateful since he couldn't miracle it himself. He'd been chastised for one too many unnecessary miracles last week again.

“I_ could_ if you want your wings to disintegrate,” he said, taking off his tinted shades and tossing them onto a table or a couch or whatever. He wasn't paying attention. The unholy nature of Crowley’s miracles mixing with the divine nature of Aziriphale’s blood was a sure-fire way to at least cause some pain. “Oh don't gimme that look,” Crowley gruffed. Aziraphale huffed but didn't complain, because he decided that that would be unbecoming, started to dry his dripping hands off, and shuddered as suddenly hands were on his left wing, massaging and prodding at his feathers. His knees nearly buckled out of shock and the sheer feel-good of it, and he missed the half disgusted remark Crowley made because of it. “Aziraphale!” he snapped with his fingers, earning a dazed “Hmm?” from the angel. “These feathers are from _molts_ ago! When was the last time you preened?” he demanded again as if his asking twice would change the answer.

“Ohh…” Aziraphale whined, “Ages and ages ago…” He muttered, leaning into the demon's touch. Crowley huffed from his nose and put his hands at his side, stifling a chuckle when Aziraphale's nipped wing lowered itself searching for the touch again. “Alright, alright,” he allowed, “Go on, take your shirt off,” he ordered softly, chuckling to himself, finding the situation amusing. “This isn't funny,” Aziraphale muttered, not realizing his eyes had closed until he flicked them open to search for buttons that needed undoing. He took his arms out of the holes of the shirt and realized the fabric was hanging on his back, held there by his wings, and he groaned, complaining when Crowley finally took pity on him and miracled his shirt and undershirt away. Grabbing the spray bottle and tweezers, he swiped a cloth that was laying on the table, taking Aziraphale's hand. “Come on, you old fool, up the stairs,” he guided, following close behind the angel to his bedroom where the bed was. Another small miracle and the bed made for one was conveniently larger.

“Aww,” he cooed as Aziraphale shambled into the bed and sat up. “Poor thing,” he tried to tut without laughing. “You're not being very funny,” Aziraphale complained again with a pout and Crowley had to ignore the way his heart swelled. “I know dear. Only messing.” he half shrugs with a dopish grin stretched across his face as he climbs on the bed, sitting criss-cross in front of Aziraphale who had seemed to come down from whatever high had come over him. “Alright love, the wing please.” He held out his hand and hummed when Aziraphale pushed the edge of his wing into it.

He got to work immediately, spraying a bit of warm water where the blood feather was, or rather, had ought to be, as finding one can be a bit of work. He brought the cloth and the water to it a few times until he narrowed down where the feather was. “Almost got it…” He muttered to himself, forked tongue stuck out in concentration. He grabbed the tweezers and wriggled them where the root of the feather was and yanked. Aziraphale cringed but the feather was out and wished away, and the pristine color of the feathers around the extracted wing were stained a very very light pink, but what mattered most was that that stupid little feather was gone. After the initial sharp peck of pain, there was, Aziraphale felt relieved, and he sighed, fluttering his wing a bit to get feeling in it again. “Alright, alright. Shake it off a bit so I can really take care of it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like please kudos!! Comments are appreciated as well, I just really like feedback ^^


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